Somebody Else
by Shan Kyohaku
Summary: Sandra use to make her money robbing people along with partners. After tragedy hits, life goes on become normal until an old friend calls to give her the news of a lifetime. Old feelings rieturn and things start to get confusing when her husband tries to win her affections and a washed-up criminal giving her a hard time. What's a woman to do?
1. Remember The Times

"So..."

"So...?"

"Is it serious? You know, with you and uh..."

"Amanda."

"Right...So is it?"

"...I don't know, I mean, I took her on a few dates, bought her some jewelry, nothin' too serious."

"Oh, must be nice, you know, actually having someone that doesn't go on heists with you and all."

"Why is it that I get the feelin' you don't like her all that much?"

"Hey, I'm not Trevor, speaking of which..." She raised her dark eyes to the direction of a tall, gruff looking man stomping his way back to the table. Sandra placed the beer bottle back to her lips to avoid the conversation from going any further. Michael turned to where her eyes rested, taking the hint as he too, took a swig of his bottle in order to let the conversation die by the time Trevor arrived back to table with three more beer bottles that would later be littered across the table empty. The both of them knew that Amanda was not a subject to bring up in a conversation with this ill-tempered man, along with the mention of his accent, the air force, his family, and various other topics. They were all having a good night. Why ruin it with Trevor having another rage fit to where they would get kicked out or worse, get the cops involved.

"I heard my name. You guys better be talking some good shit about me." He gruffed out as he sat down next her, setting the beers right down to each of them.

"Why else? What could we possibly talk about that puts you in a bad light huh?" she said as she laid back in the cheap leather booth giving out a chuckle to her friend, taking the last gulp of her beer before reaching out to grab a new bottle.

"Tell me about it..." Michael let out under his breath.

"Oh, aren't you a funny little shit." Trevor said having his furrowed brows and squinted eyes give Sandra the aggressive attention that she was expecting.

"Relax we're only pullin' your leg." Michael chuckled along with her as he downed the rest of his beer with the tilt of the now clear bottle.

"You know, you guys are bullies and you know how much I fucking hate bullies." He let with a snarl.

"Jesus Trevor, calm the fuck down. We're only messin' with ya. We're not even halfway through the night and you're already gettin' worked up."

"Relax Trevor," Sandra said sitting up from her rested position from her seat to place a hand on his shoulder. "If it'll make you feel better we'll stop." She gave Trevor a small smile as she raised her straight edge eyebrows to see if he would give her an answer.

Shrugging Sandra's hand off his shoulder, he slouched against the table as he stared at the bottle that would loosen him up. In a gruff yet softer tone his only response to her was "Yeah yeah...Where the hell is Brad anyway?" It always seemed that Trevor was always dismissive of Sandra's actions whenever she tried to calm him down. As if he were embarrassed that she acted as his mother calming her five-year-old from not getting the lollipop he wanted.

"Said he didn't want to come." She responded with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Dammit, Brad..."

"Who needs 'im? We're fine on our own." Michael said in a muffled tone, scanning around the bar as to not look at Trevor. "Ya know, like old times where it's just the three of us."

"Who needs him? Well, I do when you're too busy with that Mandy chick of yours!" Trevor shouted as he risen from his seat.

"Here we go..." Sandra said under her breath, rolling her dirt brown eyes and slouching even further into her seat as the next argument was about to ensue.

"And you're too busy with whatever it is you do!" He said, pointing at her.

"How's that my fault! You don't call me up to hang out at all anymore since Brad came along! That's your fault if anything!" Sandra defended seating herself straight as a plank as Trevor transferred his anger from Michael to her.

"Yeah!" Michael shouted, getting in on slamming Brad. Anything to show his distaste for him without making it obvious.

"Fair enough! But you have to admit, you're not too big of a fan of Mikey's girl here." That's when the attention fell on her, ocean eyes falling on the brunette, waiting for a response on whether this accusation is true or not. Sandra started to feel anxious then. She didn't like bad mouthing people, especially ones that she never spoke to her. That was the case here as she never really met Amanda officially. She was here and there but never were the two of them were officially introduced. She grew up with manners as well as having a clear judgment, even if she is a criminal.

"Well isn't that the truth?" Michael let out when the starlet of the conversation didn't.

"Well...she's a stripper, that's all I can say, Townley." She said as she hid with hunched shoulders and another downing of Pisswasser.

"So? What's that suppose to mean?" Luckily Michael wasn't offended. He had that desirable smirk on his lips as he rested his arm on the seat, his body sprawled indicating that he was amused with her response. She hated that out of her two partners, Michael was the one that made her nervous. The one that made her feel out of place as if she was the little girl playing big boy games. She hated that she could make Trevor weak in the knees and make Lester feel like a fool as well as make Brad blush a bit. Only if she tried. And that was what she hated about Michael. He made her want to try. Sandra was naturally an unattractive person personally. She had those looks that men desired to have wrapped around their arms but Sandra only wanted the money and leave. She had no desire to swoon men, only for the good of the team. It's one of the parts of the job she hated. Dressing up and making a bimbo out of herself. She'd rather have her long sleeves and raggedy jeans.

"I'm just saying, it ain't the best place to find love..."

"Who said I was lookin' for love? We've only been on a few dates."

"In our world, a few dates means lookin' for love, M." Sandra stated out.

"I say that's a few dates too many! And you two act like a married couple on the verge of divorce. Jesus Mikey, you complain about her all the time! What makes her so great huh?"

"Look man, she's a stripper, I'm a guy. Just waiting for her to give out, that's all."

"And you can't find another chick to give you a jackin' session? Townley, you do realize that there are things called hookers, right? Or is this like a man thing where you can't let one pass up or else it ruins your ego?"

"Yeah, I know just- shut up." He was getting flustered and lord did Sandra enjoyed every bit of his flushed face, his nervous glance, him hiding behind his Pisswasser. This is what she wanted to get out of him.

Trevor let out a loud insulting laugh. Obviously to push Michael into further embarrassment over his relationship with Amanda. Sandra only laughed along with him. A laugh that contrasted to his mean-spirited, shrill of a sound. Michael sat there, thinking how he was put on the spot and how he should allow the brick red cheap animal skinned seat to swallow him whole to allow him to escape this stupid ordeal but instead he found himself chuckling along with his friends and then he found himself shaking, lungs fresh out of the musty, nicotine-filled air as he couldn't help but find the whole thing funny too.

These were the moments that they wished that they had more of. The ones where them being thieves didn't matter, where they could have a good time over some beer and not think about what they'll do next to make money, who they have to trick and scar for the rest of their lives so they can survive this disgusting, unfulfilling, hell hole of a world.

Looking back, Sandra wished she could go back and live that life again. To be with her boys and have those moments again where it was just the three of them. She didn't care if their lives were in danger because she knew they would have her back and she would have theirs. She only wished that she could go back and tell Michael all that she wanted to say or to at least agreed to have covered them instead of backing out when they needed her for one of the biggest scores to fulfill.


	2. Just A Phone Call Away

Sometimes Sandra woke up with a sigh, other times Sandra didn't want to wake up at all. Those dreams where she lived in a trashy place with money in front of her, a beer in her hand, and her two boys laughing it up and celebrating on how they achieved another score while Lester holds onto a smile, busy as he typed away on his huge computer were the dreams she didn't want to wake up from. The dreams where everyone was still together and ok. Yeah, she missed the good times. Now she wakes up to normality. A nine to five job, a husband that she scared away, and an empty small house that she never thought that she would even live in in her whole life.

At this point, Sandra had to try and get use to living on her own all over again as she found herself rising from her mattress yelling out to Harold, only to have silence respond back to her, once again remembering that he was no longer here with her. The traditional sigh left her lips, as she swung her long legs over her bed and walked toward her closet to get her uniform ready for work.

She was shocked she could even have a job that paid her more than what the average shitty job could, especially for someone who only has a high school diploma. If only she could visit all the people that ever told her that college was the way to be successful, she could just rub it in their stupid overly "intellectual" faces about how wrong they were...Minus her time robbing people. Her phone vibrated on her night desk knowing exactly who had just texted her. With no shock, her phone revealed the message. Morning! Hope you're in a good mood. Harold. The bastard knew how to tease Sandra. She is not a morning person and he knew it. A growl came from her chest but couldn't help give a small smile. He teased her but at least he cared. Harold didn't have to text her every morning with some stupid message now that he wasn't here to greet her personally, but he did and Sandra really needed to learn how to show some appreciation his way. He deserved it after all.

Sandra's daily routine was like everyone else's and it took the excitement out of everything. It wore her out from how typical things were, from how expecting everything is and how she knew every "twist" and "turn" her life gave. Her attitude on this chapter of her life is part of the reason why Harold wasn't hanging around here anymore and she felt bad about it but he understood and at the moment she was only going along with the flow of things since she didn't feel the need to bother about how she felt and make a change. Life went on and so will she, whether she liked it or not and at this moment, she really wished she could go back to sleep.

She couldn't. She now had a regular job and although it paid well, she really wish she had the option of dropping it. Dragging her feet across her shag grey carpet to her dresser she pulled out her uniform and headed to the shower where she contemplated on life and always had a string of what-ifs to occupy the emptiness she felt in her head.

This morning was different. It was those mornings where she knew her usual shit attitude about things went deeper than normal. Instead of the attitude of boredom and tiredness starting to wear off as the day progressed, it continued on, but this time with a hint of sadness in it. It was that dream, or more like memory. Although she'd rather keep having it where she didn't even know it was a dream, where she was living in the moment like it was actually happening, those kinds of dreams always brought her in the worst of moods. Call it depression, but she called it a night of booze and memories.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

What she enjoyed about her job was how easy the days always were. All she had to do was deal with people and help choose what glasses they wanted. Pretty simple, which is what took the fun out of things too. Sometimes there were the ones that were either so picky or didn't even know what they want to a degree where it goes pass annoying that made her feel something other than some careless, floating balloon. Then there were the children. Oh boy, the children are the future but that didn't stop Sandra from imagining lighting one on fire. What made them worse was that their parents really didn't want to bother on doing anything to calm them down and that made her want to run them over with a semi. Why have kids? Well, that's actually a question Sandra knew the answer to herself. She figures if she had some of her own, she could understand the moments where she didn't want to do anything, but personally she thought that if it were her, she dragged them to the bathroom and give them a good smack to the head. Granted, she'd feel terrible about it afterwards and head to the nearest toy store or a burger joint to compensate but she couldn't help that the way she grew up would affect some of her way of punishing her imaginary children. Good thing she didn't have any because nowadays, she'd probably be reported to child services.

Sandra sat on her desk awaiting for the patient that had entered with Dr. Harvey to come out and choose his pair of "stylish" glasses that he would be stuck with for who knows how long. In the meantime she just stared at her phone, looking through eye find, messing around with her camera, and whatever else she can do. It was a slow day and although it made her job easier than it already was, she was bored out of her mind and like any other bored person she alleviated it with thoughts without even knowing it.

For one, she couldn't help her mind wander to how much she wanted to go to a bar afterwards and get some alcohol in. She also thought about inviting Harold and have a chat with him. They haven't talked in awhile since they were both busy, well, him more than her at the bank but she knew if she asked, he'd appreciate it. He was a sentimentalist and surprisingly, he was a guy that appreciated the small things, much like her but she tend to not show that side of her all that much.

The other thought was why she wanted to down so much alcohol. Sandra didn't have these moments in her life all too often. Back when the news of Michael's death came to her, her nights following afterward were more wild, sickly, and downright repulsively pitiful, not to mention that Trevor was along with her to make her even more disgustingly sad, him being an enabler as he didn't take Michael's death and Brad's putting away as well either. It was just the two of them drinking away their pain until one horrendous wake up call to the bathroom found that Trevor had up and left, leaving nothing but the beer bottles he drank the other night and some torn up clothes he no longer used. When she was done upchucking the contents of her stomach from the night before and the headache beginning to be tolerable, she thought about he didn't even drank as much as he usually did with her. Trevor only watched as she rambled and cried while giving her few pats on the back while agreeing with whatever nonsense she was spewing about. That's when she realized that he planned on leaving. He planned on leaving her alone, as if their friendship dwindled down to it being like this was some sort of one night stand.

Once she was down throwing anything she could get her hands on at the walls, yelling out in anger, she slid herself on the floor, with shards of glass all over and finally broke down. There was nothing left for her. Sandra finally came to terms that she was now completely alone. There was no one left. All of her friends were gone. Michael's dead, Brad's in jail, Lester gave up contact after that failure of a heist, and now Trevor, her longtime friend, was gone.

After that, she continued on her drinking until she found it completely useless. Sandra went on with life on her own, she continued on swindling men for their money and occasionally robbing a convenience store. She was miserable up until she met Harold and she owed him all of her gratitude.

The sound of the heavy wooden door shook Sandra away from her reminiscing of the presence of the patient and Dr. Harvey, him standing next to the patient as he stretched his arm towards her direction saying, "Mrs. Archer over there will help you pick out a pair."

.~.~.~.~.~.

Sitting in her car, waiting for the red light to turn, she heard a jingle ring right next to her as she finally realized that the noise was coming from her leather black purse that laid on the passenger seat. Sandra grabbed for it pulling out her black iFruit and see who it was that was calling. What was strange was that the number was restricted and with that she dropped her phone on the passenger seat and allowed it to ring, too tired to bother with picking it up and possibly "talking" to some scammer telling her that she's won a cruise out somewhere where they need her social. Yeah, she'd rather not.

The light turned green and her foot pressed down on the gas as thoughts of wanting to race circled her mind. Owning a mechanics shop would be nice, all the cars that come her way. Her phone rang again and with an annoyed huff she went to feel for her phone with quick glances until it was finally in her hands. Looking to see it was the same number, she rejected the call instead of waiting for it to pass. Placing her phone on one of the cup holders, she continued on with her task at driving back home. A buzzing sound took place next to her along with that same jingle. Taking her phone in her hands, Sandra looked to see it was the same restricted number and with a swipe, she rejected the call hoping that whoever it is will get the hint this time round. The rest of the ride was completely quiet quiet as waves of nostalgia coursed through her as the radio played some Men at Work. The dream that she had, the music that was playing, it was definitely time to down some whiskey or whatever alcohol she had at home, which to her to relief she finally was as she pulled up to her driveway.

Entering, she dropped her keys, purse, and phone on the counter and went straight to the fridge grabbing the first pisswasser that grabbed her attention. Gotta remember to buy more. With that in mind, she sat on her couch with nothing but the great orange and red hues of the sunset basking over Vice City and now entering through her windows. She only sat there with the tv off and the bottle beer in her hand. She looked like a pathetic, sad, drunk, reminiscing about the good times and getting herself in a lower mood than before. Not complete without some music! Sandra sarcastically thought in her head as she got up with a huff and headed for her stereo system.

Before she could even turn it on, her phone chimed once more. Sandra rolled her eyes ass she made her way to where it was, more irritated now than sad. Hoping that maybe Harold was calling this time to get rid of her shitty mood and possibly ask him to come over, it was instead the restricted number that was at it again and with irritation levels at its max, she decided in her fit to pick up the phone and tell them off so maybe then they'll get the idea.

"Listen! Whoever the fuck this is, you better quit calling this number or I sw-"

"Is that anyway to talk to an old friend?" On the other end was a gruff voice, speaking to her in a playful tone. Her face went from anger to pure confusion as she try to recall who it is that would be an old friend. At this moment, she didn't care, saying something like that is enough for her to be creeped out.

With a small silence in between her and the stranger, Sandra finally broke it with her asking, "Who the fuck is this?" She wasn't going to stand around and try to think up of who it might or might not be on the other end, she'd rather just have them tell her upfront.

"Out of everyone you've ever met in this small, disgusting world, you don't even remember your old partner in crime? Your Trevy-Poo?" And it hit her. Like those slaps she get from the girls that found out about her sleeping with their man, except this was much harder and, in a way, much more painful. Sandra lost two friends but she didn't think she'd lose her another as well. The one she considered family since the day she started working with him. And to hear his gruff, rude-sounding voice, well, that replaced the music she was going to drink and cry over.


	3. That's What Friends Do

"Alright sweet cheeks, let me know one thing. You ever shot a gun before?"

"Have you?" Sandra responded back, arms crossed as her and her new "partner" walked through the now grainy colored, dying grass, crunching underneath her beat up dirty sneakers. They stopped a few feet away from an old, broken down fence, where cans and broken bottles littered underneath it. The sun hitting her eyes, making her squint towards the tall, rugged man next to her.

Bottles clinking as he turned to face her, he downs a whole bottle of what the six-pack contained and responds, "I know my way around a gun, honey. Are you gonna drink some or what?" Sandra looked at Trevor with some annoyance on her face as she snatched the new bottle out of his hands. She wouldn't be here if he didn't propose a great way of her making money, if he didn't have that on her, she would've left that bar and disappear without a trace. With his wallet. After finishing the entire pack, they picked up all the empty bottles and cans and lined them up on the fence.

Moving his olive green jacket and lifting his red tattered shirt, he took out the gun that was tucked snugly into his hip bone and jeans. "Safety's off. Just aim and pull the trigger. All there is too it." Handing Sandra the gun with the handle to her, she looked at him and the gun reluctantly takes it from his hands. She was surprised as to how much heavier it was than how Trevor made it look like it was. Getting a feel of the cool metal, Sandra stood there looking at the gun as her fingers glided against it. "Are you gonna admire it or are you gonna shoot?" Trevor shouts at her as he leans against the hood of the small car.

"Shut up." Sandra fired back. I can do this. Just like in the movies. Just get the stance right, have both hands on it...You'll be fine. She thought as her heart beaten a little more harshly than before. She didn't want to show him how nervous she was with it and then get tormented about it on their ride back to wherever they needed to go. Spreading her legs apart and both her hands on the handle of the gun, she rose it up to her face, closing one eye to get a good aim at the bottle in front of her. Taking some deep breaths, she tried to keep her hand steady as she finally pulled the trigger. The loud popping sound was enough to startle her as well as the kick it gave, making her catch her footing before she fell on her ass. With wide eyes and heavy breathing, she lowered the gun and viewed the result in front of her.

"Ha! Darling, I think you need a hell of a lot more practice if that's the best you can do!" He mocked.  
Face getting hot and red, her brows furrowed into annoyance once more as she snapped at him and shouted back, "Shut the fuck up! I bet you can't even do better!"

"Oh please, sweetheart-"

"Sandra!"

"Alright! Shit, Sandra...Gimme the gun." He rosed from his spot on the car hood and motioned his fingers for Sandra to place the gun in his large hand. With a huff of annoyance, she dragged her feet to him and roughly handed the gun over, taking a spot next to the car with crossed arms. Trevor got up with the demeanor of not having a care in the world as if people have challenged him so many times before and this was nothing of importance. Taking a quick look back at Sandra, Trevor placed both his hands on the gun and just like that, popping noises went off as well as the sound of glass shattering. Even more frustrated than before, Sandra looked away from him as he finished up and went back towards her. "How was that, Sandra?" he mocked her once more, tucking the gun back to where it once belonged.

"Shut up." Sandra stood back up while Trevor snaked his arm over her shoulders, a smug grin to annoy her even further.

"Don't worry sweet cheeks, with more practice and you'll be quite the femme fatale." Opening the passenger door, he bowed before her saying "After you m'lady!" She wanted to scoff at him but couldn't help but have a small smile on her face. Why couldn't he be less of an agonizing person and be more….like that? A goof.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.

"T-Trev…?" Disbelief could be heard from Sandra's voice as she tried to mentally collect herself in the situation.

"Yeah, who else?" Trevor scoffed at her questioning his identity. Sandra couldn't believe he was hearing him, after nine long years and he's decided to make contact with her. After the shock wore off, lasting only a few seconds, anger flooded her mind as she decided to give Trevor the greeting he well deserved.

"You fuckin' asshole! You fuckin' prick! Now you wanna talk to me?! Now!?" What suddenly gave him the gall to ring her up. Sandra thought up of every scenario of this exact occurrence, whether it be seeing him on the streets in person or her actually going out of her way to actually find him, either way, they all end badly for him in her mind. If she were to be completely honest with herself, any situation with him might actually end up with her forgiving the bastard because that's what friends do. Friends who have too much history, she couldn't throw that away, she missed him. Sandra knew how Trevor was. He was an unpredictable fellow and it was part of the reason that she was of two moods with him: worrisome or gleeful. Nothing was set in stone whenever she use to work with him and it always frightened her if he would ever take matters in own hands, deviating from the plan and end being in jail or dead. It was alright if it was just them hanging out, where he can say and do anything he wanted. It made the night even more fun. But his unpredictability came from trauma filled experiences, having the belief that the reasoning for any of the things he did could be complete logic to him but complete confusion to someone else and because of that, Sandra knew she couldn't leave him out, not when she finally has him back under her radar.

"Woah Woah Woah sugar, what's the matter? Of course I'm talking to you now. That's what friends do."

"That's what friends do?! Are you serious?! Friends don't decide to completely leave without a trace and leave their friend slash partner behind. Friends don't disappear like ghosts and leave them struggling, wonderin' if their friend was actually their friend, wonderin' if they're alive or not and then constantly worry till they gone crazy!" All of it came out. All the thoughts and feelings that she had from the days she would spend waiting on Trevor and see if he would come back and share on how much life was total and utter shit while drinking away their problems. It was true though. Sandra did worry if he was alive or not, although she told herself she had no reason to. He was fine on his own way before he met her but she just couldn't help it, she even remembers the last text she sent him after numerous amounts of trying to contact him with no response. She remembered how she told him that she'd tried to keep the same number in case he needed anything at all because back then, she was so alone she'd forgive him in an instant.

"Okay… I can see what the problem is. Didn't think much of it-"

"Course you didn't, you never do, ya prick, now what do you want?" Sandra retaliated. She was beginning to get defensive. Sandra didn't want him to mock her feelings, think of her as some typical overly sensitive woman, although that thought was far from Trevor's mind.

"Michael's alive."

"..."

"Sandra…" Trevor pulled his phone away from his ear, seeing if the line went dead or not but only to find that she was still on with the seconds ticking away. With a frown, he pulled the phone back to his ear and waited to see if she would say anything but with the little patience the man had, he only barked out, "Hey! Sandy! Did you hear what I said?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" She said in a deadpanned tone. Sandra was bewildered. After all this time and this is what he wanted to say? If this was some sort of strange way to start a conversation, then he was a bigger asshole than she remembered. "What? Like he came out of his grave and started chompin' on brains, huh?" she laughed in a mocking tone. Her heart was beating fast, her breathing started to sound out of pace. She planned on breaking down today but over some memories and alcohol, not at her friend playing some joke on her.

"What? No, stupid! That slimy, slithering bastard's alive! I saw him on TV and-and-fuck!" Trevor shouted on the other side, letting out his frustration and anger. For years, he viewed Michael as one of his greatest friends, one of the best he's ever had and he died trying to save him, telling him that he needed to make a run for it. And for so long, he lived with the guilt of leaving him behind along with Brad, having nights where he would get so blacked-out drunk just so he didn't have to think about him but now the truth is out and truth is that his once beloved friend was now a lying, scheming, shit-eating snake and with all the dedication he put into their partnership, Trevor wouldn't allow him to slip by.

All Trevor saw was red. From the moment he heard those words, death was to follow him like his own trail. At the moment, he didn't know what to do, all he wanted was to break and smash someone's head in multiple times until he could no longer feel the betrayal and anger that loomed over him. Then Sandra popped into his mind. He knew she'd wanted a piece of this but he was reluctant on calling her. Pacing back and forth in his junkyard of a trailer, he contemplated on the decision. He believed she had every right to know that her other partner was alive with the hope that she might go along and join him on his vendetta against that fuck face but he knew that there would be unresolved wounds open. It might come as a shocker to anyone that didn't know him all too well, but he felt like absolute shit whenever he thought of his leaving. That was his first partner-turned-friend and besides Michael, Sandra was his best friend. It was a shitty thing to do, leave her while she was still grieving. Hard. They were both in an equal amount of pain but he believed that if he left, he could sort things out on his own. Think for a bit and maybe if they were apart, they could learn not depend on each other anymore. Not watch each other die. That was the thought that pushed him. If they kept at what they were doing, one of them was going to die and he believe it would be Sandra first because of his erratic behavior. He didn't want that. Be the reason for another downfall and then finally be completely alone. So it was best if he was alone on his own free will then under upsetting circumstances. But he wouldn't tell her that. Sounded too much of a pussy if he did. Maybe when he's drunk, he will.

Having the belief that she would help, he sat on his dilapidated couch with his chin on his hand and stared at her number. At his first attempt at calling her, he was a bit anxious but eager to give the delicious news. After that failure, he tried again and then again, but after having his call rejected instantly, he only became frustrated as he was now determine to annoy the hell out of her until she picked up and fortunately it worked...

It was quiet. Sandra knew he wasn't lying and at the moment, she felt out of breath. She couldn't really process the information given but only repeated it in her mind and then let out a breathy "Holy fuck…" onto the receiver. She felt for the counter to lean on as she only repeated the words once more as more silence followed. "Where the hell is he?"

"I don't know, somewhere in Los Santos, hiding…I sent someone to look for him."

"That fucking asshole…" Her heart was beating at an extraordinary pace from both anxiety and anger. The fucker was alive and didn't say anything. Why the fuck do I have such assholes as friends?

"I'm gonna rip his fucking head from his neck…" Sandra said more to herself than to Trevor.

"I'll help…" Trevor growled.

"Text me where you are. I'm headin' there now." Fueled with determination, Sandra hanged up on Trevor, and set herself for the trip of her life.


	4. Go With Your Gut

"Hey, Harold. Something big came up and I gotta go take care of it. I'll call you when I get there, or you'll call me. Whichever." Shoving her phone back into her pocket, Sandra rushed her and her belongings into her car, preparing to take the long trip to the airport and complete an even longer trip to LS. She was completely livid. The news that Trevor brought had changed her mood from depressed to wanting to blast something in the face with a nailed baseball bat. Thinking back to the phone call the other night only made her fury even more potent than before. Sandra immediately went to find the earliest plane ticket there, buying it as she now had a mission to destroy Michael Townley at all costs. She would have loved it if the night had ended completely different. She would have wanted to keep on the gig of being mad at Trevor and then begin the process of getting to know each other all over again. Just like starting over. Pretend that they were long lost friends of better conditions. Either way, she would've continued on with chatting the night away with him with beer and laughter, pretending that he was in the same room as she was.

The night ended much differently though. After getting her things to fit in her suitcase, Sandra called Dr. Harvey about her mother being deathly ill, and having to visit her back home. She brought the rest of the leftover beers from her fridge to her bedroom and drank away. For a small while, the feeling of wanting to cry left her after that phone call. All she felt was anger, but it all came back to her at once when her angry thoughts turned sour once more. These were the circumstances that lead to Trevor calling her. If not this, she more than likely wouldn't hear from him for another ten years or never at all and it broke her. She really had no friends. She really didn't mean much to Trevor, except for the fact that she only helped to fuel the idea that he was in the right side of things for once. Sandra enabled that his feelings justified what he wanted to do because another person felt the same. Then thoughts led to her other friend. Her "dead" friend. Why? Why in the hell would he do something so god awful like that? For so long she blamed herself for what happened back at North Yankton. She remembered how nice Michael had been when Trevor freaked on her on not being on that last heist. How nice he was when she snapped at them. Because of that, she hated herself for so long. For letting her anger and pettiness be the reason that she never saw her friends again.

.~.~.~.~.~.

Sandra laid on her worn out couch staring at the ceiling with the television filling in the silence. She was waiting for a call to hear where the next race would take place and when. It was an easy way of making money, although at the moment, she had enough to make life easy for at least four more months, give or take. But that was far from her mind. She needed something to do, something to keep her occupied and racing was a productive way of doing that. Having enough of the noise, she turned off the small, shitty television and continued to lose herself in her thoughts. Although she would have loved to ring up the boys and see if they could go out for a night of drinking, they all had to lay low for another week. By then, Michael would be busy playing house and Trevor would be too busy hanging out with his best friend. A friend that seemed to overshadow her. Sandra didn't mind Brad, but she couldn't help but feel that as each day passes, she was slowly losing Trevor to him. He was a handful and she knew it, but Trevor was her mess of a man to deal with since the beginning. As for Michael, he had a family to look after as strange as that sounded. He was no family man, but when the news about Amanda's pregnancy came out, the idea of abandoning his children was unbearable. He did not want to be like his father and so the decision to stay had stuck.

Thinking about Amanda led a frown to form on Sandra's face. It was understandable that Amanda wouldn't want the crew around Michael anymore, she got that. If she had a family, she would try to drop that life as soon as she could, but what grinds her gears was the way Amanda is. She acted so...privileged, so uppity, so above everyone as though she was queen bee. She knew Amanda viewed them as scum level, trailer trash, as though she had the right to say what's proper living. She was a goddamn stripper-turned-prostitute who had a boob job and suddenly had a god complex. Then again, maybe she always had that. She lived in a trailer too for god sakes! Sandra's way of making a living wasn't honest, but she sure as hell was smart enough to avoid selling herself to strange men. That was something she made sure of. She has no right to treat any of them like shit. What was worse was that she always came after Sandra. She only assumed it was to assert her dominance in Michael's life like some small feeble minded animal. Maybe it was because she was one of Michaels female friends that he might have a thing for. As if. Either way, it was a classic girl-on-girl hate game that played on and she really really hated it. Sandra imagined clawing her eyes out and throwing a few punches here and there while saying things to ruin what little self-esteem she had left. The only reason she hadn't gone full swing was because it was her friend's wife and she did not want to risk that relationship. At this moment, all her relationships were dwindling.

The sudden ring from the coffee table startled her away from her thoughts. Sitting up to see which phone was ringing, she knew it was the small black one informing her that this was a business call that needed to be answered. "Hello?" She said groggily to the other end.

"L's, tonight, eight a'clock." And the line went dead. Feeling buzzed from the call, she was happy that there was going to be new work to do.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Tying up her long dark hair into a ponytail, Sandra took a look at her bright brown eyes in the rearview mirror. They had bags under them from the lack of sleep the weeks previous provided her. She prepped herself for the excitement that this meeting would bring. She was happy that after this hiatus, she could finally get off her ass and do something to ease the boredom once more. Tugging on her jacket, she exited her car and walked towards the small, mobile trailer. With the light from the trailer blanketing her, she knocked a steady rhythm. Sandra took a look around her as the snow kept falling to make the bare area look like a winter wonderland. The sound of the creaking door in front took her attention as she now laid her eyes on a small, weak-looking man, with the iciest blue eyes she's seen in her life.

"Glad you could make it." Lester said as he moved to the side for Sandra to walk through. Peeking his head through the door, he takes a few seconds to look around outside as his paranoid self does whenever guests come over.

"Couldn't possibly skip out on a chance to win some big bucks." There in the room stood Michael, focused and out of touch with what was going on at the moment. He was more than likely thinking in great detail of the events that would unfold. Trevor stood with his god awful mullet and stache, having a frown to go with the threatening look that he's pulling off so well. And then Brad, who sat on one of the small raggedy sofas with a bored look, a look that wasn't new whenever he attended these meetings.

"So boys, what's the score?" Her voice projected in an amused yet confident tone. They all turned to look after her, happy to get this meeting started.

"North Yankton State Bank." Michael said with eagerness in his voice.

"You're serious!?" Sandra chuckled out with a quirked brow as she sat at the small table in the room.

"As serious as I can be. It may not be much but it'll sure as hell cover us for a good while."

"No complaints here."

.~.~.~.~.~.

As Lester finished up with his presentation, there was the question that always came to mind when discussing any heist. "What are the chances we make it out clean?" With her hands clasped on top of the table, her eyes focused on the blueprint in front of her.

"Do you want the answer that feeds into doing this job or do you want my actual god honest opinion?"

"The answer that won't send me to my grave early."

Lester looked at each of the thieves with a nervous expression risen on his face and hesitated only for a second to answer. "...I don't think that this job is something you guys can go through."

"Oh come on Lest! What do you mean we cant? We got the best the of the best here! We're gonna make it through it and we're gonna make it through it rich." Trevor exclaimed. He wanted so bad to go through with this score and he wanted everyone to be apart of it. He'd cut Lester's tongue out if this was going to change Sandra's mind.

"And then we can finally end it here." Michael calmly said with what sounded as if he let out a welcomed sigh.

"What do you mean "end it"?" Her head slowly turned to Michael as her eyes squinted in skepticism.

"You didn't tell her?" Lester said in surprise, looking between his companions once more.

"Shut it, mole man!" Trevor yelled, only to see Lester squirm back from his outburst.

"Uh, Me and Trev have been talkin'-"

"We decided to end the partnership after this job. Sorry for you to be the last to know Sandy." Trevor said as he looked away from her. He knew how much they meant to her because he felt the same with them. It killed him when Michael opened up about how he wanted to leave them and it murdered him when he decided for it. He was going to tell Sandra but for some reason, he always found something to distract him from doing that. He realized now how that could go wrong.

"Wait wait wait wait. I know that this job would cover us for a good while but are you guys seriously deciding on not doing this anymore?" Her dirt eyes looked back and forth between the two as her chest felt constriction.

"You know I got a family S, I can't keep doing this." Michael said as he looked to the floor, not wanting to look at her. He couldn't risk their lives because of him. He didn't want his children to visit him in prison and know their father to be a pitiful loser who couldn't do any better in providing for them. He didn't want to be absent in their lives, let alone because he was six feet underground. Michael just couldn't find himself doing that to them. He wanted to be better. For them.

"And I never said I was done. Me and Brad, we're gonna go places."

"Oh really? And where does that leave me, huh? Where am I in all of this? All four of you decided to have this chat and leave me out! Do I really not count in anything?"

"No! Sandy that's not why-"

"Cut the shit! I noticed how I've been the last in anything nowadays. And you told Lester instead of the person who's gotten your backs since the start! The person that almost slept her way to make extra cash when we needed it bad! The person who drives your asses out the heat before the cops could get on to us!?"

"San-"

"What'll screw us over on this?" Sandra said in a firm tone as she turned her attention instantly to Lester.

"Uh, right of course. Our main problem is security and the time frame. I'm afraid that it's too short for any of you to make it to the van on time." Lester flustered out. Even though Michael gave hints about it being the last job, he honestly thought that Sandra would be the first he talked to about it. They always seemed to be more connected but then again it was hard when all three of them were so close to each other. When Lester met them, it was like high school. The new kid meeting the clique and how it was hard to break through their barrier that they've built up together. Although this is all business, he did feel like the outsider with their group. Eventually, he turned to the person they always praised and respect. Well two of the three, he should say.

"Fuck security! They can't do shit to us! And we'll be fast! As long as we know the plan like clockwork, we'll be home free!" Brad said with confidence.

"For once, Brad's right. We'll do this and we'll do this with no repercussions. Sandy, this job will be like any other job we've done. There's no way we can fuck this up!" Michael said. He could see that she wasn't convinced and he needed her to see it his way. He needed this and he needed her on this job.

Only thoughts battled within her head. It was a good score but the fact that Lester wasn't a hundred percent behind it like he usually is is what was really breaking the tie on what she should do. "I trust that you guys can't fuck it up but I trust Lester more on this. You know I don't go full on without Lester's approval on it."

"Oh come on Sandra-D!" There it was. The stupid nickname they used whenever they wanted her to do something that she was stubborn on. How Marty McFly hated being called a chicken, she hated being called Sandra-D. It had the same punch of being called a pussy and it always worked in their favor. She had too much of an ego and pride to back out, but she knew that nickname wouldn't work this time. "You use to go into jobs head-on before we ever met Lester! Whatever it was, you never hesitated! What happened to the old Sandy!?" Trevor said in a passion with his hands slammed on the table, looking straight at Sandra, a desperate fire burning in his eyes.

"That old Sandy was stupid and almost got herself killed and caught more times than she can count because she thought it was a good idea to listen to you two fuck heads!" She said as she rose herself in the same position as Trevor. "Fuck you guys! I ain't doing this job!" She yelled as she grabbed her jacket from the back of her seat and headed to the door.

"Are you fucking serious!? Are you fucking with me right now!? This is our last Goddamn heist together and you can't help but fuck this up for us!? You're a real bitch, you know that, Sandra!? You can't even do this one thing for us without that stick up your ass!"

"Trevor!" Michael yelled.

"How about I get that stick that's in my ass and fucking beat the living shit out of you, you fucking psychotic good for nothing piece of shit!" She yelled stalking towards him as a force that couldn't be stopped. "If you wanna talk about who fucks up what, let's talk about your fucking star moments, huh! At least I don't fucking kill any of the goddamn hostages because they looked at me funny! At least I'm not the one that drives everyone into hiding because the cops are onto us for a fucking murder case! At least I'm not the one who tries to start shit up while we're trying to lay low!" She continued on at his face. Everytime they were on a job, she always had to worry about him doing just that and it always made her more anxious than what she should be. She already had to worry about making sure she didn't mess up. She had to make sure that the everything was going to plan. She had to worry about not getting in a wreck whenever they drove off. Sandra did not need that extra weight on her.

As she walked past the men, she felt a grip on her arm like their life depended on it and it did. "Sandra! Wait! We need you. I can't get another driver as good as you! You're the only one that I trust on anything and this is big! We'll be fucked without you." Michael was pleading with her. There was a desperate look in his eyes and damn, did she nearly gave into it but she needed to show them her ground and she needed to show how true his words were. They would be fucked without her. It was petty but she didn't give a damn at the moment.

Yanking her arm out of his hand, she looked him straight into his true blue eyes and said, "Good."

As she walked out the door, all that was left behind was Trevor yelling "I don't wanna hear you begging for money from us, you hear!? You don't get any of the damn cut! You don't deserve shit!"

.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Sandra found herself staring at the ceiling once more as the anger still coursed through her body. This was complete bullshit. The feeling of being left out was just that. A feeling. Then being the last to know of some news that would change her life only made her feel even more distant from them than before. What happened? What suddenly changed their dynamic from sticking together like the family they were to not even speaking to each other like the way they use to, she didn't know.

The sudden ring from her phone startled her. Rolling her eyes at her jumpy self, she picked it up and answered the call. "Yeah?"

"Hey…" Great. It was this smooth talking bastard calling. Probably to try and convince me into this job.

"What?" Sandra said with her attitude giving a hint about how she was feeling.

"I just called to...I just wanna know if you're alright. After everything, especially what Trevor said, I just needed to know if you were alright." That wasn't what she was expecting.

Taking her anger down a notch she sighed and responded. "Um, yeah. I mean, I'll be alright. I'm a little pissed but I'll get over it." Closing her eyes, Sandra tried to waver off the remainder of her anger so as to continue having a calm conversation with Michael.

"You got every right to be. Look, I wanted to call and say I'm sorry for being an asshole. I should've told ya what I was planning and I'm sorry about the shit Trevor said. You know how he can get."

"Yeah, I know. I wasn't expecting anything different from him." She rubbed her forehead as she thought back about earlier in the night. She hated it. Hated how bad it got. "But he's right. I shouldn't be such a bitch and back off from what we got planned. It's our last job and I can-"

"No, don't worry about what Trevor said. Don't let him guilt you into doing anything you don't wanna do."

"And what do you want me to do?"

"...To be honest, I really want you to be apart of this. It is our last. But we've always gone with our gut feelings. Mine's telling me we can do this, yours is tellin' you we can't. It's better if we went with how we feel. No hesitation." That thought only made her want to laugh. The last time she went with how she felt things began to feel different between the two of them and when they finally fixed what was bothering them, it only left her a bit hurt.

"I'm sorry Mikey. I just...I can't shake off this bad feeling I got. We always went with what Lester says and it always saves our skins but I get why you're doing this. Just be safe."

"Hey! Don't worry about nothin'! We got this covered. And forget about what T said. I'll slip you a couple grand under your door when we get back." Michael said in a confident yet hushed tone. Probably didn't want Amanda to overhear him.

"You always spoil me, you know that?" She chuckled. It always felt like playing house with those two. When one said no, the other said yes.

"Anything for you, Sandy." She could only imagine him winking at her as he said that, like the smooth bastard he is. With their moment of laughing, Sandra's ears perked at the faint sound of someone calling his name in the background. Of course. Typical. "I gotta go, Sandy. Just wait till I'm knockin' on your front door. You'd wish you came along."

"Anything you say, M." She sarcastically laughed. "Prove me wrong." and there, she hung up and stared at the ceiling once more but this time with a small smile on her face.


	5. To The West Coast

She will be the black plague upon Michael Townley's life. Everything that he has, the new friends he's made, his wife and children. They all wouldn't be sticking around for much longer. That was something she'd keep a promise. This bastard made her grieve and feel hatred and regret only for his living being to mock her for all the things she felt and more than likely still feel. No mercy for him, that's for damn sure.

The drive to the airport was long and monotonous. The actual departure from the grounds of Vice City only made her anxious. Sandra honestly didn't know what to do when she got there. She was afraid that all the things she had been telling herself of what she will do would fall back. She was afraid that she'd fall silent once her eyes landed on that suave, ill-fitting man, she'd break down right in front of him. Make the stupid little girl he's always brought out of her come back once more. Sandra was afraid of that. The power he unknowingly had take her by the neck and pull her around with a chain. She was certain she was completely over it but when news came about, he still had a hold on her. It came and go it seemed. As she was finally in the air, her phone was buzzing with Harolds name across the screen. She didn't want to talk to anyone at the moment, she only wanted to calm herself down and think through her thoughts. She needed to think up what she would do once the plane touched down in LS.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.

The trip took it's time but to Sandra, it still wasn't enough to get her nerves settled. Landing down only made things real and she still couldn't comprehend it. Exiting the plane and into the airport, she took out her phone and texted Trevor.

 _Where are you?_

She looked around the area with crowds of people filling it up, rushing to and fro. Already, her nerves were going.

 _Not there._

Is he serious?

 _I thought you were picking me up? What the hell?_

 _Busy. Call a cab. You got my address._

 _Fuckin asshole_

She was going to throw her phone across the place. _The goddamn prick. Didn't even think that maybe it'd be nice to pick me up as a nice welcome_ … Biting her lip to contain her ongoing anger, she stepped outside in the inferno that is Los Santos. Waving for a cab, Sandra couldn't help her pulse going at it again. "Where to?"

"Sandy Shores."

Of all the places Michael would wind up in, it didn't seem strange that he would pick Los Santos. It was a place where he envisioned himself to be, where all his favorite movies were made and where he can easily forget his past. To Sandra, this was just any other place on the map and after awhile it's magic would wear off. That's how it was in Vice City and North Yankton but the difference was, there were fond memories to be made in each place. One being her beating the shit out of both boys. That would be a memory she would easily look back fondly on. Could even make it on the top ten list if she wanted. Half that lists memories would be in Vice City with Harold and the other half would be back in North Yankton. Sandra chuckled to herself. If she could, she would move back to North Yankton and make some more memories but she couldn't do that to herself, not after now.

Driving by the buildings and cars and each stop made in the shitty traffic that LS was known for, Sandra only felt claustrophobic in this city. It gave her more bullet points in her list of what's making her more nervous than before. Unlike LS, Vice City has its share of attractions and enormous buildings but for some reason it still felt wide open and spacious and less...extra. Too much was going on at once. Too many people that looked too good for anything while there were too many people who were in desperate need of a shower and cleaner clothes. There were too many cars and too many shops. There was too much sunlight for god sakes! Her sunglasses couldn't even block it out. The place was just too obnoxious and overly contradicting. It went from regular people living in their decent homes with a few dents and scratches as she noticed some gangs lying around, to the over-the-top beach homes with bright expensive cars and glass buildings to accompany it. And now her she was viewing a more calm side of things. Mountains, the ocean, and it overall gave a more peaceful, smooth drive.

If Sandra were like any of these LS folks, she would of been impatient as hell and itching to get out of this taxi but the drive honestly calmed her down. The longer the drive took, the farther away she was from this hell of a reality that she would soon greet.

The concrete roads suddenly were dusted with dirt and the extravagant buildings her eyes were burning from suddenly turned into small dingy places. The expensive cars turned into four wheelers and dirt bikes and then suddenly she was reminded of home. Instead of snow, the place was blistering in heat and rested on a desert. She was getting close and her heart started working overtime.

As the sky began to bleed an orange across the sky with hints of violet, she only hoped that when she arrived she wouldn't have to deal much with Trevor and go straight to bed because sleep was the only way to cope with anything anymore. The taxi then pulled up to a fenced trailer, all rusted, worn down, and covered in trash. If anything, it perfectly personified Trevor himself. A match made in heaven if anything. Paying the cab driver, she looked onto the next chapter of this hallucination and slowly made her way to the trailer, suitcase roughly following her behind.

Taking a deep breath, she set aside her suitcase, and looked to the door of the hell she would enter. Three hard knocks, and she waited to see the face of a friend so close yet so far away. Easing her breathing, she waited. She couldn't hear anything on the other side and for awhile she thought that maybe she imagined knocking the door. So she knocked another three times, this time harder than before and after awhile she knocked again. All the nerve-wracking feelings morphed into anger one more time that day. Sandra banged on the door and shouted, "Trevor! Are you fucking there!" With that the door cracked open and with a huff she picked up her suitcase and pushed the door aside, slamming it shut. A sudden smell greeted her and it was not something she wanted to investigate on its origins. The place was an absolute shithole and Sandra only questioned herself as to why she was even surprised. Garbage all over the place, underwear, beer cans, pizza boxes. Dishes were piled up as flies circled the sink, the walls were stained with ugly wallpaper and mysterious splotches that she didn't want to know the backstories of. She felt as if she would catch a disease if she stayed any longer in there. The bathroom was something far beyond her nightmares as she agreed to take a roll and do her business outside. The only place left to judge was what she assumed to be the bedroom. And as she guessed he wasn't there passed out like she thought he would be. If anything, she'd say that the bedroom was a lot better than everything else she seen, a small pile of trash in the corner and what appeared as though Trevor having a tantrum, the TV and closet being the victims.

Exiting, she let out another huff as what she thought would be the beginning of her and Trevor bonding again would only turn out to be another disappointment in her life. Sandra sat on the worn down seat and checked her phone. Much of the calls were from Harold, along with some text but she still didn't want to talk to him. The less he knew the better. She kept up the charade of being a normal, good, civilian, she didn't want Harold to know how deep he dug his grave when he met her. _Nothing from Trevor, the son of a bitch…_ All she can do was wait and see what happens.


	6. I Thought

It had been late in the night when the door finally opened. Sandra only sat as she watched the tiny television set from across the room. A man in red flannel and a fisherman's cap poked his head through. He was nervous, saw the bikers park out front of the trailer and squirmed his way through one of the back windows. He didn't want to get caught up with The Lost. He didn't want to die.

"Oh shit…" He said with a hint of fear in his voice, taking a peek at the damage caused. As he entered fully into the trailer, a yelp escaped him as he backed himself against the door once he caught sight of Sandra. "Who the hell are you? Are you from The Lost?"

"That shitty biker gang? No. I'm here for that asshole Trevor." Sandra had a scowl on her face. He better be asking her that because she was here and not because he thought she looked like a meth head.

"Well who isn't nowadays…" He said under his breath as he calmed down. "Just look at this place! He's going to be so pissed…"

"Why? I thought it looked like this all the time."

"No, they were here, probably to give him a warning…"

"And what did he do this time?"

"Uh, I'm sorry but who are you?"

"An old friend. Who are you?"

"A new friend. Listen lady, I don't trust that easily, unlike most people, I know better than to trust any stranger off the street. That's why I'm Trevor's number two."

"Well isn't that just fine and dandy, but unlike you, I don't really give a shit. Now, is Trevor gonna show up or not? 'Cause we got some things we gotta sort through."

"He should be, I think he's in a meeting now…"

"Oh, a meeting you say. Probably with someone that I don't give a shit about huh? That fuckin' scumbags got a meeting with someone more important than me and the goddamn situation he's got me in now, huh?"

The sound of an engine revved in front of the trailer. The fisherman turned with a look of fear once again. Exiting the trailer Sandra can hear his voice. Loud and boisterous, just as she remembered. What surprised Sandra was how she stormed out of the trailer with anger instead of the anxiety she felt earlier on.

Walking through the fisherman and towards Trevor, Sandra had a finger pointed towards him while she shouted, "You! You goddamn son of a bitch! You got better things to be doing than coming to see me and talk about fucking Michael!"

Backing up with his hands up in defense, Trevor couldn't help but scan Sandra's body before confirming it was actually her, "Is-Is that my sweet sweet Sandra-Dee?" He let out a low whistle as he took another look up and down her body. "I see your tits are as fit as I remembered them…" He said in a low growl. A loud slap split the night as Sandra's hand came in contact with Trevor's grimy face. The two other men that were there, their faces were in shock, they never seen their boss take a hit and not retaliate before.

"Ooo, you still got that good arm too huh?"

"Fuck you Trevor!"

"Honey, I'm ready when you are. Come into my office and we'll talk."

"W-wait! Trevor-" Entering his home, Trevor couldn't help but notice the bigger mess in front of him. Bigger than how it usually is. "They were here Trevor! They're trying to scare us away!"

"All of my stuff...destroyed. Broken as my soul. And, and would you look at this…" Trevor kneeled to the ground picking up a figure of what Sandra noticed to be Impotent Rage. She rolled her eyes at the useless toy, waiting for Trevor to let out his tiny tantrum over it. "No respect for a man's prized possession. Those honor less, disgraceful, fuck headed bastards!"

"They messed with the wrong people Trevor!"

"Shut up Ron!"

"Are you done? Because I didn't come here all the way from Vice just to see you kill a bunch of peopleI don't give a shit about. Now where the fucks Michael?!" Sandra let out. She was tired of these games.

"That, my sweet Dee is something my dear friend Wade can answer." He said as he turned to the man with the painted face on. Christ, now that Sandra was looking at him she, for some reason, wasn't surprised these were the kind of people working for Trevor, especially after hearing him talk.

"I-I'm sorry Trevor but there's so many people in Los Santos, he's hard to find." With her hands on her hips, she threw them in the air in exasperation, frustrated at how much of her time had been wasted on today alone.

"Wade, come here." Trevor asked as his friend who only coward back a bit. "No no no no, come here Wade, I'm not gonna do anything to ya." He cautiously came up to Trevor in obvious fear. Trevor only laid his arm across Wade's shoulder in a friendly manner. Sandra only placed her hands back on her hips with the look of absolute annoyance adorning her face.

"Do you see my lovely friend over there with the nice rack?"

"Trevor-" Sandra says in a warning tone.

"She came a long distance to find a man named Michael. Now, I can already tell she's disappointed and she's no fun to be around when she's that way. Like a wet blanket." Sandra rolls her eyes at the statement but keeps quiet. Trevor then places both his hands on Wade's shoulders and looks him directly in the eyes. The wannabe Juggalo only tries to avoid his eyes as it always did make him nervous to look into the eyes of man who can bring him death so easily.

"Now, frankly, I'm disappointed as well. So when I tell you to go look for someone, I expect some fucking results!" He then shoves Wade through the door of the trailer, him stumbling out. "Now the next time you show up here, I better have Michael Townley's goddamn address on hand or else you and your shitheaded cousin are gonna end up the same way Johnny K did on my fucking boot! Now hurry the fuck up!" He shouts throughout the trailer park with Wade still stumbling like Bambi out of Trevor's property. Sandra can hear him huffing and puffing like he usually does whenever he's upset.

As soon as he calms himself down he turns to Sandra as if he never had temper at all. "Sandra, honey, so good to see you again..." He says as he tries to swipe in for a hug. Sandra sees his mediocre attempt to brush by every other conversation that needs to be had and pushes him away.

"No no no, nuh uh. Don't come here trying to hug me like we're good pals, meth-for-brains. We're not doing that. We're nowhere near that."

"What do you mean?" He gives Sandra the innocent look routine but she wasn't having it. While she was still angry (and unlike most people) she was thinking clearly.

Sandra only inched close to his face and said through clenched teeth. "You know exactly what I mean, don't act like the dumb meth head with me you piece of shit, that never works..." She turned away entering back inside the trailer. Trevor only stood there in confusion looking at Ron as Ron only shook his head with a shrug of his shoulders. He knew what you meant but he couldn't bring himself to actually talk about it. He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want nothing to do with it.

"Sandra! Sweetheart! I know, I know you're still mad about what happened in the past but it's done! It's over with! Let me get you a beer!"

"No Trevor! No!" Sandra walks towards him as she gets into his face. What he expected was another slap but what he found instead of anger in her eyes was hurt and disappointment and it wasn't over the lack of whereabouts on Michael. "You left me all alone when I thought we had each other's backs after that day. I thought that after that heist, you'd stay with me and we'd live out life the way we use to way back before Michael and Brad showed up! I know we were shit back then but I thought that when we got ourselves cleaned up a little, we make a few bucks and move to fuckin' Tahiti or some shit and live out the way we always planned on living!" Trevor only looked at Sandra in disbelief as this was more than what he expected from her. In his head, he only thought she would just be mad about him leaving without saying anything but it ran much deeper than that and he felt absolutely stupid for thinking very little of the dilemma.

"But that's all it was Trevor, me thinking about all of the things that could've been. I was thinking of some stupid fantasy that I knew better about. Like any of that shit was gonna happen." That's all Sandra could let out right now. She could definitely sting him about anything else but that was the one thing she wanted to let off her chest for now. She was too flustered to do much else as she let out a sigh and backed away from him, walking to sit on his run-down seats.

Trevor only stood there to let all of it sink in. He found it funny. He hated Michael for abandoning them but he did the exact same thing to Sandra. What a damn hypocrite he was for doing that.

"Well, erm, Sandy, I uh, didn't realize all that was transpiring in that noggin of yours..."

"Don't hurt your brain over it, T. I'm not expecting anything from you, why would I?" He felt bad when she said that. She lost all trust and probably loyalty in him. What was once a close relationship with the both of them has obviously been lost and fractured over the years. What was he to do? He only hoped that them finding and possibly beating Michael would bring them closer again but that was only a thought.

"Uh, T?" Ron said in nervousness as he really didn't want to be apart of this dispute but the clock was ticking for them.

"What Ron?! Can't you see I'm having a heart to heart to heart here?!"

"Yeah but, uh, The Lost?"

"Shit!" Trevor whispered to himself. This was perfect timing, isn't it? Make him look more of an asshole than he does now.

"Look, Sandy, I gotta go and take care of some things but I'd really love it if you could drive me there. For old times sake." He asks with a hint of plea in his voice.

"No."

"No?"

Sandra only stands back up and places a hand on his shoulder. "You go do whatever it is you plan to do. I came here just for what you called me for and nothing else so I'll be waiting here." She then sits back down with arms crossed and a patient face on. Trevor just stands there as he sees the switch go on in her. It was strange. She had a temper just like his, a bit more toned down but nevertheless, she had a temper. He saw the beginnings of it earlier but she backed down. He was confused to the say the least, but he rather not stay and have her yell at him. Although, he wouldn't mind that. He missed her yanking his ding dong around and not just in anger.

Trevor just takes the opportunity to head out the door yelling at Ron to follow. With more time, Sandra soon will get what she came for, whether she had Trevors help or not. If it took his friend forever, she'll go out looking for him herself. She was capable of doing that.


End file.
